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Thursday, 18 December 2003

Well
here we sit in the harbour of Puerto de la Restinga on the island of
El Hierro about to set off, as so many thousands of others have
before us, on the start of our trans-Atlantic trip. The island, the
most southern and western of the Canaries was, at one time the end of
the known world and we leave tomorrow for the Cape Verde’s, some
750 miles to the SW. From there we will head west across the waters
to Tobago, Trinidad and through the Caribbean. But all that’s ahead
as much has happened in the month since we last wrote…….

We
finally left Arrecife on Lanzarote for a couple of weeks cruising the
Canaries. Our first night out was ‘orrible as the anchorage was
rocky, rolling and uncomfortable. But Fuerteventura proved to be an
absolute contrast to Lanzarote and made us want to spend a summer
cruising the local waters. For once I would have to say that the
pilot books DO NOT over estimate a particular phenomena and that is
the very aptly named acceleration zones. In the space of a hundred
metres the wind strength can increase by several Beaufort scales and
the boat takes off seemingly out of control and on the latest bash
through one we came out the other side to find our Max Speed has gone
up to 12.3 knots on the GPS. And that under a reduced rig!

At
our last stop on Fuerteventura we pulled into a harbour intending to
anchor but spotted an American and a Kiwi yacht tied up so followed
suit. That night we found the local population used the roadway, to
which the quay was attached, as a meeting place to listen to football
matches, play loud music or simply conduct their relationships away
from family gaze. About 6 a.m. we heard Toots cry out and a thud as
she arrived back on deck. Leaping out of bed and up the companionway
I was just in time to see one distressed cat leaping for the jetty
wall, slipping and plunging some 9 or 10 feet into the sea. Screaming
to Bee that “Toots was in” I tried to grab the swimming moggy (between the hull and the wall) but
her stroke carried her beyond my hands and I rushed, stark naked up
the jetty ladder, barely noticing a car parked opposite with a, no doubt
surprised, couple in it. I had somehow snatched up the fishing net we
keep for these occasions although it no longer has a handle and so
treated the bemused couple the rare sight of one hairy arsed
Englishman bent over the jetty wall pathetically waving the said
fishing net at the water at least a further 7 feet out of reach. Bee
maintains that the woman confronted with such horror will have taken
up vows of celibacy.... Meanwhile Superwoman had also joined the stark
naked affray, though wisely remained out of sight, on a ladder by the bow. By now Toots having swum some 20-foot ahead of the boat
was persuaded to head back towards us by dint of me rushing along the
quay shouting and waving my arms. Bee, seeing she was heading for the wrong side of the boat, launched herself from
the ladder, grabbed the bobstay and snatched Toots from her intended
circumnavigation of the hull. Now our troubles are about to begin.
Clinging to the ladder with one hand, moggy in the other, Bee is
unable to defend herself from one very frightened, agitated and
extremely sharp-clawed cat. With one heave Bee threw Toots up onto
the deck where she promptly scarpered. However with Toots rescued and on deck
we went below.

I found a towel and then Toots as I wanted to dry her off.... Picking her
up remarked to Bee that she was remarkably dry…….

We
looked at each other. Bee had deep scratches across her chest, a
gaping wound in her bottom lip where the cat had dug its paw in, as a means
of leverage and the blood seemed to be flowing everywhere…….

Bee
said the water was very warm

I
thought it would have to be dry not warm and donning shorts I went up
to see the spectators on the jetty. In excited Spanish they confirmed
that there had been a catfight, and that both were still on board.

We
had rescued the wrong cat!

And
to prove the point one bedraggled and very scared cat slunk out
Toot’s shelf, and made another leap for the jetty wall, succeeded
and raced off into the rocks.

Toots
ignored us and our dilemma and kept on filing her nails.

The
serious side of all this was two fold. One we were obviously
concerned about rabies and two Bee beat me to the first alcoholic
drink of the day as we both downed stiff brandies.

Another hard day in the office

It
was in this harbour that we had a conversation with the crew on a
Czech boat. The skipper was looking bemusedly at Hannah and asking me
about her. Told where we were going he asked “was it safe”? The
Atlantic? I asked. “No” he replied “your boat”! We were not
impressed at his lack of sailing awareness and when they left for
Gran Canaria some hours later we doubted we would see them and their
very new, very expensive American built speed machine. But there is a
god, as leaving some 5 hours after them we arrived at our anchorage
the following morning to find them at anchor. We scurried round like
demented flies, stowing sails, tidying up and generally out to show
we had been at anchor for hours rather than just arrived whilst they
slept on. Needless to say they had gone without a word when we
surfaced a few hours later no doubt putting in calls to American
builders about strange looking craft following them at high speed……….

The
trip to this anchorage gave us our first real taste of acceleration
zones and the seas that can build up. We spent most of the time under
mizzen, stays’l and No1 but still felt overwhelmed at times but we
had a fast sail, encountered our first flying fish and suffered from
a reluctant Stanley who having lavishly praised him could be turning
into a Diva. Only joking Stanners.

The
sea here is really something else, and at times is like looking into
an aquarium. Bright blue Angel fish abound and the sea colour is a
wonderful blue. Diving is extremely popular and thankfully so as at
one harbour where we anchored the holding was so poor we dragged. We
persuaded a passing dive boat to take our kedge and dump it further
out. 2 days later we needed him again and found out that not only was
he very helpful he also owned the company so a great big thanks to
Chris of Tenerife Diving who enabled us to lay out 150 metres of
anchor line when the squalls were giving us a hard time in Las
Galletas on Tenerife.

Finally,
as we were about to start this scribble our phone rang and we heard
the dulcet tones of a good friend from the yard, Alastair. Whilst we
were battling across yet another piece of swell ridden water we both
decided that yotties have got their heroes all wrong. By and large we
idolise the Hiscocks et al for their exploits but Alastair dismisses
all thoughts of wandering the oceans for a quiet life aboard his
schooner with the occasional foray to France or the wilder parts of
the Solent. Stand up and take a bow Private Dilley as Bee swore we
would join your ranks in between “chatting to Hughie” on a recent
trip.

And
finally, finally. As we left our last anchorage, the sun shone, the
main and stays’l were set and we were preparing to hoist the No 1.
I gave the nod to Bee, then noticed a squall about to hit us and
tried to warn Bee about the danger. But Bee had already begun hauling
the sail up and then the wind arrived.

The sail flew away from the
boat, Hannah turned toward the cliff face and accelerated and Bee
screamed for me to help her control the sail. Together we managed to
hoist the sail 2/3rds the way, up before I raced back to the tiller
to stop us careering bow first into the cliff face. Bee finished the
job and returned to the cockpit, holding her hands. The wind had hit
us with such force the jib sheet had raced through her hands removing
several layers of hard calluses and leaving the hands raw and bloody.

Saturday, 22 November 2003

OK,
to get you in the right frame of mind for the crossing from the
Guadiana to the Canaries you need to do the following. Install a sea
saw, connected to a malfunctioning motor. Instead of gentle lifting
you up and down it behaves erratically and sometimes dangerously
stopping and starting, twisting or turning with no apparent reason, a
close friend stands by armed with a sea water bucket which they
alternate with a fire hose and douse you at the most unexpected
moments. You must also install a wind turbine to ensure you stand a
serious risk of being blown off your seat and that the water hits you
with additional vicious force. Finally crank up Chris Rea’s
wonderful “Road To Hell” and settle down for the next 12 days. Or
so it seemed to us as we sailed slowly down to Lanzarote from Spain.
580 miles the distance between the two points on our charts turned
out to be a very real 983.

But
to start at the beginning. We left the Guadiana in company with Lilly
B one sunny afternoon. Both boats sailed away from the entrance and a
fine sight we will have looked, sun on the water and sails as we
reached out into the Atlantic.

The
forecast we had had gave us about 3 days to enjoy ourselves before a
small low appeared. In the event we had about 36 hours during which
tie we suffered a serious loss when our fly swat fell overboard.
Despite going about, and causing Lilly B to come galloping to assist,
fearing the worst, we were unable to find it and had to suffer the
misery of flies for the evening. By morning our companions on LB had
left us and we had the ocean to ourselves. That evening we witnessed
the gathering of heaped, huge and very black storm clouds. Out of
nowhere I heard myself say to Bee “I’m going to get the self
–steerer working” and within minutes I had. We were amazed as
Hannah responded to this simple gathering of stainless steel, plastic
and plywood. No event in history can compare to that moment! Sailing
with Hannah will forever be BS or AS and we can well understand how
people come to worship inanimate objects as Stanley came into being.
We were ecstatic as the drudgery of hours at the tiller would now be
a faint memory but little did we realise how much we were to thank
Stanley over the next week or so.

The
seas built up, the favourable wind swung round to head us, increasing
in force, leaving us unable to distinguish sea from sky and the
heads’ls were changed, the main reefed and slowly we headed toward
the Moroccan coast. At one point we were reduced to staysail alone,
as the wind grew stronger. At other times, under main and stays’l
we could sail either 150 degrees or 310 degrees. Our course lay at
220 degrees. It seems for several days we struggled over the same
piece of water, guided by Stanley, who not only did all the steering
but enabled us both to go forward to reef or change headsails. What a
difference! The whole job became much easier, almost pleasurable and
certainly much safer. Once, when we were both moving forward to take
the storm jib off as we were burying the bowsprit, we were hit by
tremendous squall, seas flattened and the crests were blown
horizontally in a driving spray before a wind that temporarily dumped
Hannah on her side. Absolutely frightening and yet there is an strong
element of exhilaration too, not of taking on the weather but simply
being part of something so powerful that it can literally leave you
breathless.

But
the days went on. We called up passing ships to ask for weather
forecasts and were told a low was stationary over Gibraltar, we
scanned the clouds looking, desperately, for any indication of a
change. We shook out sails, we reefed sails, we had all our headsails
lined up on deck ready for use and still we seemed to get no nearer.
Day after day we had seen the weather building, the seas growing as
evening came. In the end the effort of changing sail became too much
and we settled for a combination that kept us moving at 3+knots. One
yacht we spoke to, Running Bunny gave us a forecast and then rang
back 5 minutes later to say they had had an update from the States
saying the front would be coming through in 3 or 4 hours.

It did,
with a wildness that convinced us to heave to and rest. But that was
it, the weather began to improve and we gradually shook out the
reefs, hoisted the genny and roared on to Lanzarote. Land hove into
view for the first time since leaving Spain some 11 days previously.

Of
course we didn’t manage to arrive in daylight and we worked our way
into an anchorage for the night. And the gods left us with a final
snub by making us lay out the anchor 3 times before it finally held.
Sleep came as heads hit the pillows having almost nodded off into the
pasta bowl. Even Toots who had survived the journey more or less
intact slept long and deep. After getting drenched, confronting a
flying fish on her deck and then being carried through the streets of
Lanzarote for a rabies booster jab there is no truth in the rumour
she is digging an escape tunnel……..

you wouldn't put a milk bottle out in this weather

So
we arrived, wrote out our list of jobs to do and began shopping for
the next stage. The tri-colour has been repaired, the solar panel
bought cheaply in Portugal keeps the batteries topped up and we have
bought, from the local copy shop, charts and a pilot book of the ICW
in the States. We’ve sealed the skylight that poured water down
onto a sleeping Toots when we shipped a greeny. Toots was not amused
and we hated the incursion of water below decks. But as ever in these
storm situations it is usually the crew that find the going hard
whilst the boat gets on with what they are designed to do. Hannah,
left to herself and Stanley’s touch, simply got on with the job and
kept us safe and for the most part dry.

So
Lilly B was here and had been for several days. They like us spent a
lot of time wondering how the other was doing. They, despite
suffering seasickness in most of the crew made good time and are
currently anchored in the next harbour up. Lanzarote hasn’t changed
since our last visit 10 years ago and remains a favourite. Having
sorted out the jobs and rested we will leave in a day or so to visit
a few of the other islands, Gomera, Hierro and La Palma before
heading south with the trade winds to the Cap Verdes.

A
week on from our arrival the legacy of Stanley’s intervention in
our lives is with me still. In all our previous sailing on Hannah I
have remained faithful to the tiller and directed Bee as to which
sails needed changing. She, of course, relishing anything physically
demanding simply got on with the job. Now with two of us working the
foredeck it is undoubtedly easier and safer but my hands have still
not recovered from the constant immersion, hard ropes and physical
effort involved. I’ve often said we have a role reversal in our
house but I was generally referring to Bee and sport, particularly
football. Now I find it is my hands that are dishwasher soft whilst
Bee, calluses an’ all just gets on with it. But it will pass no
doubt and we are looking forward to the next few months of reputed
trade wind sailing.

Toots has recovered, shows no inclination to go
ashore to concrete docks and spends much of her tine kipping in the
day only to race around deck in the evening. Boats are arriving, some
leaving and we often meet up with people we last saw 500 or 600 miles
north. As with any port we find those who have stopped, picked up a
mooring buoy and settled into the local community.

Wednesday, 11 June 2003

And here we sit
in a wonderful scrubbing berth in Lezardrieux working hard with
cement and trowel………… but more of that later.

We finally left
Cherbourg and headed along the coast toward Cap de la Hague and on
toward Carteret. As with many of the harbours along this coast, timing
is everything as entry is controlled by a lock or sill. Of course we
had our fastest recorded speed ever of 10.7knots over the ground and
under No 1, stays’l and main we roared along the coast and down
past Alderney before the wind died and then headed us. The last hour
was spent plugging into a tide before finally gaining the sanctuary
of Carteret. We spent a few days there awaiting an improvement in the
weather and met an English couple who come from Hedge End, small
world etc. Conscious of the budget we left even tho the forecast was
promising 6 or 7’s, with gusts of 8, it didn’t disappoint!
Westerly winds meant Lezardrieux was always going to be difficult and
the slow going in the end had us turning south and into Granville.
The two problems we had here were: we didn’t really like the look
of the place and we had no passage chart to get us there. We managed
it with a lot of care and attention to sea states but the whole
experience was physically & mentally exhausting. Granville turned
out to be a good place, cheap and interesting with a free shower. We
bought a passage chart to cover the missing spots.

We left Granville
in misty, lumpy conditions and used “Henry” to help us make some
progress against headwinds and contrary tides. By late afternoon we’d
had enough, despite a visit from a school of dolphins and headed for
St. Cast picking up a buoy outside the harbour for a swell ridden
night before leaving early the following day for Lezardrieux. The
forecast was for 5 or 6 but we left with gentle 3 and sunshine and
made good progress despite the headwind. Closing the shoal waters off
Ile de Brehat the wind picked up to a 6 with us doing 7 knots + we
headed down the south side of Brehat toward the river. No problem
picking up the marks and under main and “Henry” we made it into
safety, serenity and a peaceful night’s kip, if only that’s how
the story went….

Tacking across
the narrow channel under main and engine we cleared the Rade de
Brehat and were NW of an isolated danger mark called Rompa. We’d
tacked each time as the depth dropped to 4 metres under the keel only
this time I took my eye off the sounder for a few seconds at the
wrong moment. Looking back the depth had dropped to 3.2 and as I
swung the tiller went down to 2.5…. I was about to shout to Bee
that we could have a problem when we heard a crashing sound, felt a
lurch to starboard, the bow rose ominously out of the water and all
forward movement stopped. The boat tilted upward toward a sunny, blue
sky, the stern was a foot lower in the water than it should be, the
exhaust note muffled by the water that covered it. Dropping the main,
no time for harbour stows now, we looked at each other in dismay. The
wind was blowing strongly onto the port bow and if we managed to get
off would simply pile us further onto other waiting rocks. A very
rapid check below showed no water in any of the bilges but with the
wind getting up and the tide beginning to flood we needed to work
quickly. The only luck in the whole scene had been the lurch to
starb’d as we found we could easily launch the dinghy over that
side, away from the wind and waves. Thanks be to Yamaha as without
the outboard the whole job would have been so much more difficult. We
lowered the Danforth, 10 metres of very heavy chain and 50 metres of
line into the dinghy and motored slowly away paying it all out.
Tipping the anchor over in a hurried fashion gave me a ripped finger
but once back aboard Bee slowly took up the strain and the anchor
held. Every time we have used that anchor and combination we have had
success but this was the most important to date. We waited. Every few
minutes I would go gently astern and in due course we came off. The
“only” damage we had been able to see was a long white gash on
the keel but how low down we couldn’t work out. Having sorted
ourselves out an hour and a half after running aground we set off
tentatively up river toward our nights destination. Subdued and dry
mouthed we followed the river watching the depth and twitching
nervously when it dipped below 10 metres. Had one attempt at
anchoring, dragged and picked up a nearby buoy for convenience before
eating and DRINKING at midnight.

The pilot book says Lez has a scrubbing hard...It
has. Its free, has both water and electric laid on and your boat sits
on a well drained concrete base. We had to wait until after the w/e
as we were still on neaps but 4am on Monday we made our way gingerly
onto the berth with 10 cms to spare. We’d met a French couple on
Saturday whilst out in the dinghy with Toots, invited them back to
Hannah and subsequently been taken out, by car, to a local Chateau
and the next port down river from here. Called Portrieux it offers
Hannah sized moorings for £250 a year. True you can only get out
when the lock gates opens and you are a long way from the sea but it
is very tempting. Anyway at 4 am there stood Philippe waiting to take
our lines as we nosed into the berth. Over a period of five days we repaired and
painted, found one side didn’t take and had to turn Hannah around,
more drama and once again Philippe was on hand to lend a much-needed
hand. People use the adjacent slipway to launch Ribs etc and seem
bemused at the sight of a scruffy couple, watched over by a
sunbathing cat, diligently mixing up a batch of cement. Once again
John & Minnie have reached out and provided a solution, as it was
their donation of quick drying cement that has enabled us to make the
repair. Today is, we hope, the last day on the berth. The sunshine is
wonderful as is the NE wind, all in all a day to be out and heading
for our next destination, Treguier.

A
couple of asides. So far we haven’t found French libraries to be as
Internet friendly as other countries so emails may be more sporadic
than we had hoped.

Toots seems to have adapted well. True,
when it gets lumpy she sometimes feels she should be allowed up top
where she can demonstrate her balancing skills by sitting on the self
steering bracket or leaning over the top of the capping rail. Both
these activities leave me anxious and Bee needs to hurriedly sweep
her below before I start bellowing. Toots has also started going
ashore and seems to spend most of the night wandering in our current
berth, chasing bats, eating flies or insects and seems to look
forward to the next mystery destination.

We
have settled into this trip much more quickly than the Danish one and
have, for the most part, enjoyed it more. Hannah goes extremely well
and gets lots of attention, including a free nights mooring from one
friendly harbourmaster.